The Spear of Destiny

Chapter TWO



LONDON, ENGLAND



Peter Dennis poured himself another cocktail while trying not to spill any. He was leaning forward in the limousine to make sure he didn’t splash any of the red liquid onto his white shirt.

“Would you like one?” he asked the girl opposite.

Marine archaeologist Natalie Feltham shook her head while holding her flute up.

“No thanks. I’ve still got most of my champagne left and you’d better not have too many of those in quick succession. I don’t want you slurring your speech all night.”

“Hey that’s what Limo’s are about. Drinking in the back of them. It was good of Jim to put it on for us.”

“He wanted us to arrive in style.”

“That we’ll do. You look sensational tonight.”

“Oh thanks and I don’t usually. Is that what you mean.”

“What! Of course you do. You always do,” Dennis replied eyeing up a shapely ankle, “That dress was a good idea. It is stunning.”

Natalie was wearing a long, ankle length, sleeveless, black dress, with a long split down each thigh. The neck of the dress was gold. She was also wearing gold, strap heels. Her long blonde hair was held high on her head with pins. Two long strands of hair hung down, prettily, either side of her face.

“You don’t look so bad yourself but your bow tie is a little crooked.”

He leaned in to her.

“Straighten it for me.”

While she did he sneaked a quick kiss.

“Oi! Cheeky! You’ll smudge my make up.”

Then she laughed.

“What?”

“You’ve got my lipstick on your lips. Come here.”

She wiped it off then became serious.

“I love you.”

“Love you too,” he replied, “And I love this car. Fancy a quickie?”

“What? No! The driver might see.”

Dennis shrugged.

“And besides there’s not enough time. Kinky bugger.”

Dennis smiled.

“There’s plenty of room.”

The car turned a corner and Natalie saw the British museum ahead.

“Too late. I think we’re here,” she said as the car passed under a huge banner and stopped at the bottom of the steps. The door was opened and Natalie and Peter put their drinks down and she stepped out first, onto the red carpet and into a sea of press photographers and flash photography. Dennis stepped out and the chauffeur wished him a good evening, closed the door, got back into the driver’s seat and moved off slowly past a television camera getting ready to start shooting. In front of the camera a beautiful reporter with Asian features.

“Three. Two. One. Go,” the cameraman clicked his fingers at the reporter.

“Good evening and a very warm welcome from the British museum in London on this the opening night of the exhibition of what is perhaps the most important exhibit in the christian world, the ‘Holy lance’ sometimes referred to as the ‘spear of destiny’ the mysterious Roman spear that supposedly pierced the side of Jesus Christ while he lay on the cross. I’m Kim Nguyen reporting from a star studded occasion where the world of archaeology meets those of politics, film and stage as a host of stars pay tribute to this, the first exhibit of it’s kind here at this magnificent building for many years. The museum was founded by Sir Hans Sloane in 1753 who exhibited his own collections, a museum which currently holds the Elgin marbles and the controversial Rosetta stone, requested by Egypt for its return to its rightful country. Never before has an exhibit such as this, the ’holy lance’ graced this the most famous museum in the world. On loan from its home in the Schatzkammer, Vienna, Austria the spear was once in the hands of Holy Roman emperors, Adolf Hitler and the American General George Patton. One of the world’s truly great treasures it will be here on display for the next two months….” she glanced sideways and caught sight of Natalie and Dennis as they made their way along the red carpet towards the foot of the steps. Dennis was admiring the six huge Roman fire baskets on stands blazing, merrily away, twenty feet high across the front of the museum at the top of the steps at the entrance. The excitement in Nguyen’s voice quickened.

“Here come the renowned journalist Peter Dennis and the very beautiful marine archaeologist Natalie Feltham, hitting the headlines earlier in the summer, for the failed search for Alexander the great’s sarcophagus. Natalie, Peter can I get a word,” Nguyen called as they got to her.

Dennis smiled into the news camera.

“Can I ask you about your involvement tonight?”

“Hi Kim. Yes it’s a truly great turnout tonight for the exhibition.”

Dennis stopped to put his hand up to a group of journalists he recognised.

“Now Mr Dennis you wrote an article on the spear,” Nguyen said, holding up a copy of ‘the country’ magazine’s latest issue. A photograph of the Holy lance on its cover, “How convinced are you that this may be the spear which pierced Christ’s side, that it has magical powers?”

“I think the magic, Kim, is in what people believe. It has brought so many here tonight. The exhibition will be sold out every day and night for two months. That’s the magic it holds.”

“Some say that the lance doesn’t resemble a Roman spear at all. That’s it’s quite possibly a hoax.”

“Well if it is a hoax we’ll have enough experts here tonight to prove it, one way or the other.”

“That wasn’t really an answer.”

“Look Kim. It’s been added to over the millenia. The Roman soldier Maurice lived four hundred years after the crucifixion when he carried it into battle. It contains a Roman nail from Christ’s cross for goodness sake. What more proof do you want.”

“I have all the proof I need Peter. Here in this beautiful article you’ve written,” Nguyen said holding up the magazine again, “And speaking of beautiful, I must say Natalie you are looking exceptionally stunning tonight. Tell me what’s it like to be with the most handsome, eligible, bachelor in journalism.”

Natalie leaned in to the microphone.

“It’s an adventure Kim.”

Nguyen smiled as the couple moved on down the line of photographers and reporters.

“There you have it,” she said into the camera, “Hoax or not. It will be hard to convince this couple. Just three months ago they were involved in a kidnap plot when their search for Alexander’s sarcophagus ended also in a hoax. The sarcophagus never found, waiting perhaps to be discovered as the ‘spear of destiny’ once was.”

“I take it you know her,” Natalie said looking back at Nguyen who was staring after them, microphone held nonchalantly across her chest away from her mouth, one eyebrow raised back at Natalie.

“Yes.”

“How well?”

Dennis too looked back at the television reporter who was smirking at him.

“I used to date her. Hey look it‘s the Mayor of London and his wife.”

Natalie stared after him as he continued down the line of extended cameras and microphones.



Inside the museum waiters dressed as Roman legionaries were moving amongst the milling crowds with trays of champagne and vol-au-vents. Dennis looked up at the impressive tessellated glass roof of the great court.

“What an amazing building.”

Natalie nodded. In the centre of the floor space was an area roped off. Men in dark glasses and suits patrolled nearby. Security for such an important night.

Dennis grabbed a glass of champagne from a passing waiter and a handful of vol-au-vents. The look from Natalie suggested she wasn’t impressed. He stuffed one of the small pastries into his mouth.

“Hm! Prawn.”

“What are you doing?”

“Soaking up the alcohol a bit.”

“I told you not to drink too much on an empty stomach. You know you can’t handle it.”

“I’m fine. I’ll make this my last glass until the speeches are finished.”

“Well they’re about to start,” Natalie said as the select few press photographers rushed forward as Sir Nigel Phillips, director of the museum, took to the lecturn. He adjusted the microphone to his mouth and as everyone turned to face him all conversation stopped. The only sounds now were the whirring and clicking of cameras.

“Mr Mayor, ladies and gentlemen, honoured guests, esteemed members of the press, may I extend to you a very warm welcome from the Great court of the British museum on this the opening night of ’The Spear of Destiny’ exhibition.”

The blue cloak covering the glass case with the spear inside was pulled down rapidly to reveal the Spear for the first time. There was a burst of flash photography as a generous round of applause erupted from the hundreds of guests.

“Well there it is,” Dennis said craning his neck.

Natalie turned to him as he continued looking over the heads of people in front.

“You mean you’ve never seen it?”

“No.”

“But you’ve written an article on it.”

“The power of the internet babe.”

Natalie smiled as she shook her head.

“You are such a cheapskate….” she stopped as they received dirty looks from people nearby.

“And now ladies and gentlemen if I could direct your attention to the large flat screen televisions around us,” Phillips said, extending his hand towards one of many large televisions suspended from the ceiling.

“Wow! Dennis said, “Now that is a tv. Must be a fifty five inch screen.”

The lights were dimmed in the great court as the screen came to life. Clever lighting around the court brought in set the mood with changing colour sequences.

The screen was dark and then the spear of destiny appeared as the narration began. Everyone watched the seven minute video in silence and as the lights came on the screen went dark.

Another round of applause and then Phillips spoke again.

“Ladies and gentlemen, myself, the vice director and everyone involved with the museum would like to thank the Austrian ambassador and his staff and the Austrian government for their generosity in lending us, this, one of the most Holy relics in the world. Mr ambassador thank you,” Phillips led the round of applause, “And now,” Phillips raised his glass of champagne to the crowd, “Enjoy the party.”

Phillips shook hands with the Austrian ambassador and began greeting his guests.

“I thought the video was rubbish,” Dennis said.

A partygoer nearby turned to him.

“You have a better version?”

“I do.”

“And you are?”

“Peter Dennis, journalist, I wrote an article on the lance.”

“I see and that makes you an expert.”

“I’d like to think I know a bit on the subject.”

“So do I. I’m the actor who narrated the short documentary.”

Dennis cringed.

“If I’ve offended you I’m sorry.”

“I’d like to hear your version,” the man’s wife said.

“So would I,” said another.

“Ok. Well….” Dennis began to his new audience, ”The spear was originally a Roman legionary standard issue spear belonging to a Roman legionary called Gaius Longinus. Longinus worked with his legion in Judaea until his eyesight began to fade, it actually sounds today like he had cataracts, but of course the Romans would have no way of dealing with this affliction, anyway, sorry I’m going off the point….”

“No it’s very interesting,” one listener said, “please continue.”

“So Longinus is almost blind and ends up only able to perform light duties and one day he gets a task which for him would be life changing, he’s asked to assist in a crucifixion. Now it’s a Friday and the Jewish Sabbath was Saturday so the executions had to be finished by midnight so the Roman tradition was to break the crucified’s legs, unable to support the upper body any longer the condemned would suffocate and die within fifteen to twenty minutes. When it came to Christ’s turn the blind Longinus told his centurion that the man was already dead. To prove it Longinus or his centurion thrust the spear into Christ’s side emitting a flow of blood and water, St John 19;34,

The blood splashed Longinus’ eyes and he was cured. ‘This truly is the son of God’ he declares and is converted. Shortly after this he leaves the army and travels the province with his spear telling all he meets his story. Arrested for his faith he angers the Governor and has his teeth and tongue ripped out before he is beheaded and the spear disappears from history.

It reappears some time before 286AD and is carried by a black Roman commander called Maurice during the reign of the emperor Maximian. Maurice’s entire legion, known as the Theban because they were conscripts from Egypt, of six thousand six hundred men were all Christians. This was extremely rare in ancient Roman history. The army was strongly pagan and remained so until the Emperor Constantine. Anyway the Theban legion led by Maurice, Candidus and Exupernis based in the east was ordered to Gaul, that’s France today, to assist with rebels in Burgundy. In Burgundy the legion was joined by the Emperor and once the rebel uprising was quelled the emperor ordered the killing of all civilians. Horrified at these instructions the christian legionaries refused. The Emperor was furious and ordered the legion to be decimated, that being every tenth man to be put to the sword, six hundred, as an example. The rest of the legion were not moved by this and soon the Rhone flowed with the blood of the entire legion. This whole event occurred in Aguanum, Switzerland. St Moritz in Switzerland is named after Maurice.”

Dennis took a sip of his champagne. As all good story tellers he gave his audience time to ingest his knowledge. He noticed the actor whose name he didn’t know was actually listening with great interest. When he was sure they were ready for him to go on he continued.

“Next the spear passed to the Roman Emperor Constantine who carried the spear into battle against the rival Emperor Maxentius on the Milvian bridge over the Tiber in Rome. Losing the battle Maxentius fled with his army and the bridge collapsed and Maxentius drowned. His body was recovered and decapitated Constantine became the sole ruler of the West. Founding the city of Constantinople on the older city of Byzantium Constantine kept the ‘holy lance’ or as it is now known the ‘spear of destiny’ there.

During the reign of the Emperor Otto III in Constantinople, sometime around the year 1000AD a Roman nail was added to the spear. In 1084Ad holy Roman Emperor Henry IV added a silver band. In 1350 Charles IV added a gold band over the silver one. In 1424 Sigismund had relics including the lance moved to Nuremburg.

When the French revolutionary army in 1796 approached Nuremburg the city moved the collection to Vienna, Austria. Many Kings, Popes and Emperors added to it until we end up with what we see today.

The Holy Roman empire was disbanded in 1806 and the treasures remained in the custody of the Hapsburgs.

In 1912 Adolf Hitler saw the spear in the museum in Vienna and from that moment he became obsessed with it. Some say that the only reason he invaded Austria in 1938 was to capture the spear. Hitler kept it in St Catherine’s church in Nuremburg for six years believing the ancient legend that whoever owned the spear could not be defeated and held mystical, magical powers. He truly believed that his Nazi forces were now invincible.”

Dennis paused again to allow his audience to catch up.

“Then on April 30 1945, Hitler and Eva Braun commited suicide as an American Lieutenant Walter William Horn took possession of it. He gave it to American General George S Patton. The rest of the story you all know from the vignette. It was returned by the Americans and today resides back at the Hofburg museum in Vienna, Austria.”

Dennis looked at Natalie.

“What do you think?”

“My head’s buzzing, trying to take it all in.”

“Well I’m sure some of you have some questions you’d like to ask me about the spear and I’ll look forward to answering them but if you’ll excuse me for a minute, I need to use to use the bathroom. Too much to drink,” Dennis said.

“That was fascinating,” the narrator said, “They didn’t include half of that knowledge for my part. I must get a copy of that magazine. Are you his wife?”

“No. Peter and I are a couple. We’re not married.”

“Oh I see. He’s a journalist isn’t he.”

“Yes.”

“And yourself?”

“I’m an archaeologist.”

“Archaeology? That’s wonderful,” the narrator’s wife said, “all adventure and treasure finding. What an exciting life you must lead.”

“Yes it must be a bit Indiana Jones,” the actor cut in.

“It couldn’t be further from the truth,” Natalie replied, “But they are great films aren’t they.”



Dennis was just drying his hands under the air dryer when his I-phone began ringing in his pocket. He fished it out, frowning at the display. It was his editor Tom Rogerson.

“Hi Tom what’s up?”

“Pete. Sorry. I know you’re at the premiere….”

“That’s no problem,” Dennis knew the phone call must be urgent.

“Pete I don’t know if you’ve had a chance to see the news but Gaddafi’s been killed.”

“Which one?”

“What do you mean which one?”

“Well the whole family is called Gaddafi….Oh! You mean ’the’ Gaddafi.”

“Yes I mean ’the’ Gaddafi, Muammar.”

“What happened?”

“He was caught by rebel forces. There was a NATO air strike on a convoy he was travelling in and he and others with him had to abandon their vehicles and they took refuge in a drain and were caught. I’m a bit sketchy about the incident to be honest Pete so I’ve sent the Sky news link to your phone. I know it’s Friday night but when are you next in the office? Is Nat with you?”

“Yes she is. I’m actually in the toilet and as for the office, I did have plans for the weekend. Wouldn’t your usual newspaper reporters cover this event?”

“Yes Pete, that wasn’t why I was ringing you. I want you to do an article for ‘the country’ focusing on the impact these events will have on others lives. Like the one you did after Saddam’s fall. You know the sort of thing. Look I’ll let you go so you can get back to that gorgeous woman. I just wanted you to know so you can keep up with events in Libya over the next few days. Enjoy your weekend, I’ll see you Monday.”

The line went dead.

Dennis checked his e-mails, saw the Sky news link, saw that the Sky news report on anytime was fourteen minutes long, put the I-phone back to it’s screensaver, reached for the door handle, stopped, got his phone out again and quickly found the Sky news link.

“Fourteen minutes,” he said as the report began to load, “Natalie is going to kill me.”



Outside the museum the VIP’s had long since finished arriving and some of the news crews were packing up. Many of the reporters were now sipping coffee and hot chocolate on this chilly, late, October night.

Kim Nguyen was talking to her camera crew, their equipment on the ground in favour of hot drinks when she heard the first parp from the Roman cornicen.

“What the hell is that?” her cameraman put his coffee down and hoisted the camera onto his shoulder when he saw the legionaries that had rounded the corner. Nguyen was frantically thumbing through the multi page programme looking for Roman re-enactors.

“I don’t remember seeing anything about this,” she said, “Are you filming?”

“Absolutely,” Tom, the cameraman replied.

“Live from the British museum,” Nguyen began reporting, “A group of Roman soldiers are advancing towards us and the museum in what appears to be a surprise spectacle put on by the organisers who have managed to keep it quiet from us,” the camera flashed back from the legionaries to Nguyen, “I have the schedule here in my hand,” she said holding it up for the watching world, “And there is definitely no mention of re-enactors in it. What else will surprise us this evening. Kim Nguyen reporting from the British museum.”

Nguyen moved out of the way for the camera as the Roman re-enactors swept past her, about turned at a command from their officer, clearly a centurion, and marched towards the steps followed closely by the media with cameras and reporters giving chase.

As they passed Nguyen she noticed the centurion, who was the only one of them not carrying a shield, had a strange bulge under his tunic. It seemed ridiculous but she imagined it to be a gun. Not a handgun but possibly a small machine gun, a ‘what were they called‘? She tried to find the words in her head.

“That’s it! A sub-machine gun.”

She started to call out to her cameraman Tom when she realised the centurion was looking in her direction. She couldn’t see his face. They were all wearing shining masks that completely covered their features. She involuntarily shuddered. The masks had a chilling appearance. She shut her mouth and looked at the ground until she felt he’d looked away. Now she studied the legionaries and though they all carried shields she was sure they had similar if not the same strange lumps under their tunics. She grabbed Tom’s arm as he was filming, pulling him off balance and forcing the news camera off focus.

“Kim! What are you doing?” he said, knowing they could edit out any bad film.

“Tom. Stop filming. Have you stopped?”

“Yes Kim. What’s wrong?”

“Keep your voice down,” she said, “I know this sounds ridiculous but I think these men are armed.”

“Yes they were,” he replied, “With swords and spears. Their attention to detail is very good.”

“I don’t mean that. I mean I think they’re carrying guns. Under their tunics.”

“Guns?”

“Yes guns,” she said, glancing around to make sure no one else was listening. Tom was watching the re-enactors’ disappearing backs while searching for an answer.

“Perhaps Um! Perhaps they’re police.”

She raised an eyebrow at him.

“Since when have the Metropolitan police doubled as actors?”

“Well ok not them then but maybe they’re security people who came with the spear. Austrian police or something.”

“Possibly. But remember there was no mention of it in the schedule.”

“Do you think something’s going down? Kim you really do have a wild imagination don’t you.”

“I guess I spent too long dating Peter Dennis. I know one thing though.”

“What’s that?”

“We need to try and get inside in case I’m right.”



At the museum’s entrance the security guards in their black suits with earpieces saw the small band of Romans approaching. The head of security moved into their path and spoke into his headset to his supervisor who was sitting in front of a bank of television monitors.

“Yes I have them on visual,” the supervisor said, “Wait for instructions.”

He frantically flipped through his clipboard. There was no mention of a detail of Roman soldiers. He was watching them on the largest screen. They were very close to the entrance of the museum. On the other monitors he could see the guests now turning towards the approaching actors.

“Sir I need a decision,” the head of security said into his earpiece.

The supervisor could see Nigel Phillips on one monitor craning his neck for a better view of the approaching legionaries.

“Sir I need your decision.”

Now everyone in the great court was watching through the doors.

“Let them in,” the supervisor ordered.

The glass doors were opened and the Romans marched in.

“Good show Nigel,” the mayor of London congratulated him whilst clapping his hands.

“Thank you sir. If you’ll excuse me….”

Phillips rushed up to the nearest security guard.

“I haven’t ordered this! Who let these people in.”

“My supervisor sir. They must have clearance!”

“Clearance! Clearance from whom….? Then Phillips saw the Austrian ambassador nodding his way and smiling. Phillips smiled back as the realisation hit him.

“Ambassador Schmidt has organised this as a surprise for us. That’s fine! I wish he’d told me but that’s fine. I’ll thank him after the performance.”

Inwardly seething, Phillips put on a smile and joined in the applause as people moved away from the centre to allow the actors access. They marched in through the doors and stopped at a command from the centurion. Then at another command they turned and marched to various positions around the room. The centurion came on alone, people moving further back out of his way.

“Their attention to detail is amazing,” someone near Natalie said.

“All except the masks,” she replied, “Roman legionaries wouldn’t have worn them. They weren’t standard issue and were mainly worn by cavalry and usually only for exhibitions for re-enacting famous battles, especially Greek or Trojan.”

“Oh!”

A girl moved forward with her mobile phone to video the centurion who deliberately kept his back to her. He paced around the glass pedestal holding the exhibit. Then quick as a flash he hoisted up his tunic and pulled out a semi-automatic machine pistol as did his men. He sprayed the ceiling of the great court as glass rained down. It happened so fast that the armed security guards didn’t have time to draw their weapons.

Peter Dennis, still inside the rest-rooms, still watching the Sky news clip, looked up at the door as he thought he heard gunfire from outside. Then he heard the screaming from the guests and he rushed to the door, opening it a crack.

“Stay where you are! Nobody move!” one of the Romans was saying, “And nobody will get hurt!”

Outside the museum it was pandemonium as the gathered crowds panicked and ran at the sounds of gunfire. One of the security guards near the main doors went for his gun. The Roman nearest him shot him at point blank range with his MP5 machine pistol. At this range the bullets entered the man’s chest, exited his back without slowing and smashed the glass doors behind him, to the screams of those inside.

“Now everybody calm down!” the centurion shouted, “There’s no need for anyone else to get hurt.”

From the crack in the door Peter Dennis tried to see what was happening. He could see Roman uniforms and then he saw Natalie who was looking his way. For a moment their eyes met. The Roman nearest the toilets saw her look and he turned with a puzzled frown as the door closed silently. The legionary next to him nodded and the first man cocked his gun and moved to the door. He pushed it open slowly and entered the toilets. There were taps and basins on one side, stand up urinals against the far wall and four cubicles, each of which had their door closed. The man with the gun looked at the signs on each door. Thay all showed ‘vacant’. He pushed the first door open firmly.

Empty!

The next two were also empty. He pushed open the fourth and Dennis threw himself at the man, knocking the gun out of his hands to slide across the tiled floor, and hammered his fists into the man’s face. They both crashed to the floor. The Roman hindered by the thickness of his costume.

Dennis knocked his man aside, turned over, got to his feet and groped for the machine gun. The Roman grabbed Dennis’ legs and pulled the journalist back down. Dennis turned over onto his back and kicked the man hard in the face breaking the nose. The Roman legionary scrabbled at Dennis’ legs and Dennis managed to kick him away and reach the gun. He threw it up into the air, spinning it, caught it and brought it crashing down against the man’s temple knocking him unconscious to the floor. Dennis shouldered the gun, pulled the man who was heavier than he looked into a cubicle and locked the door from the inside, climbed up onto the cistern, over the partition and dropped to the floor. The smears of blood on the floor he could do nothing about. He went back to the main door and opened it a crack, again.

Near the main doors of the museum Nguyen and Tom sneaked inside. Their feet crunching on the broken glass. The Roman nearest them fired warning shots into the ceiling.

“No moving!” he ordered, not realising they’d come in from outside.

They froze at his words and when he turned away from them Nguyen spoke.

“Where’s the camera?”

“Silence!” the man turned and brandished his gun at them.

Tom nodded towards the plaza. Nguyen saw the camera laying on its side outside.

“I left it running.”

The man with the gun advanced on them angrily. Tom threw his hands up.

“Sorry.”

“Keep quiet!”

Then the Roman peered outside. The square in front of the museum was deserted. He could hear the distant sound of sirens drawing closer. The centurion heard them also. He drew back his arm and smashed the glass instantly setting off the alarm on the pedestal. The Austrian ambassador started to go forward and received the barrel of a gun under his chin.

“Now don’t be a hero.”

The centurion took the spear firmly in his right hand, turned with it, thanked ambassador Schmidt and strode from the museum. He handed the ’Spear of Destiny’ to one of his men who shoved it into a holdall and the rest of his men followed backwards out of the museum. The last two fired bursts of machine gun bullets over the heads of everyone and left.

Two police cars screeched onto the plaza, blue lights ablaze and officers jumped out but had to dive for cover behind their open doors as the men dressed as Romans opened fire. One policeman was hit in the face by bullets that splattered through the car window. He slumped to the ground bleeding profusely, his partner frantically calling for backup on the police radio.

Peter Dennis came rushing up to Natalie with the machine gun over his shoulder. A woman near him screamed and he swung round on her, his finger to his lips.

The security guards all had their guns out now and one of them pointed his at Dennis.

“Put your hands up!”

“Relax, “ Dennis said, “I’m one of the good guys.”

The guard lowered his gun.

“Are you all right? “ Dennis asked, cradling Natalie.

“Yes. Yes. I’m fine.”

“Have they hurt anyone?”

“They killed a guard and they’ve taken the spear.”

Nguyen and Tom ran up to them.

“Peter are you playing the hero?” Nguyen said, nodding at the gun he was carrying.

“Kim! What are you doing in here?”

“You know me Peter. I’ll do anything for that blockbuster story.”

Three black Range Rovers roared onto the plaza and screeched to a halt. The Roman re-enactors ran to them, still firing at the police. The centurion got into the first one.

Peter Dennis took the machine gun off his shoulder.

“I’ll be right back!” he shouted to Natalie.

“Where are you going? It’s dangerous!” she shouted back.

Nguyen watched him go.

“Still got it then Peter,” she said admiringly.

“Excuse me!” Natalie cut in.

Nguyen enjoyed the look she received from Feltham. Was it jealousy.

“Oh don’t worry love! I’m last year’s model.”

A Metropolitan police helicopter swept in low over the museum and over the plaza. Its searchlight trained on the black Range Rovers which now sped off as more police cars arrived.

Peter Dennis sprinted out to where the Range Rovers had been. He could see they had no number plates as they reached the corner and split up, going three separate ways.

“Put down your weapon and put your hands on top of your head!”

Dennis heard the order and turned slowly to see a dozen armed police officers trained on him. Dennis held the machine gun up as high as he could, his fingers well away from the trigger and then slowly lowered it to the ground. Dennis went down on his knees and placed his hands on his head with a smirk on his face.

It was going to be a long night.